BTS SMERALDO THE NOTES 1 (Edited & Translated)

Seokjin: 2 May Year 22

The Thing With Wings
Part 3

Yoongi was standing in the middle of the workroom, flicking the lighter in his hand. The room reeked of gasoline. I was standing right outside the door. I was about to jump when I heard a dull thud followed by the flapping of wings. The door was half open, so I peeked through. Yoongi had his back to me.

The bird collapsed on the floor, fluttering its wings in an attempt to rise into the air again and escape. Yoongi was completely still as he looked down at the bird. I still couldn't see his face.

The bird flapped around blindly, looking for a way out. It bumped into the chair, the wall, its soft feathers falling, drifting around on the floor. Yoongi did nothing but look at it. His and holding the lighter hung in the air for a few moments before he dropped his arm to his side, sank down to the ground and covered head with his hands.

After that incident, I went to his workroom later that night again. The room was spacious, but quite desolate. The room held nothing but a sofa, chair and a piano. Crumpled pieces of paper were scattered all over the floor.

He must've tried to start a fire. It would explain the smell of gasoline clinging to the air. Some of the papers looked like lines of music, lyrics scribbled all over them.

The bird was more calm now, crouching behind the piano. Its delicate wings were covered in wounds crusted with dried blood. It seemed petrified despite its lack of movement, cowering in fear when I made a move towards it. Tiny drops of blood were smeared on the floor from its efforts to get away. Bread crumbs and water were set out in front of the piano.

I took a step away from the bird. Eevn if I let it out the window, it wouldn't be able to fly yet. How long woudl it take for the wounds to heal? Would Yoongi remain safe and sound while the bird was staying here?

Then, a thought came to mind. Yoongi must've stopped himself from giving in to the urge to kill himself because of this wounded little bird. A fragile thing that couldn't protect or save itself. A tiny being that entrusted its life to Yoongi.

After that day, I realized that if all the variables related to Yoongi's suicidal attempts existed within himself...why not drag at least one of them out? I'd have to seek the right target and the right situation. A variable that could give Yoongi a reason to to stop destroying himself. Someone who could share his pain and desire.

And I knew that person wasn't me. At the moment, that small little bird, that little hope with wings, was the only thing that could be Yoongi's saving grace.

"It's not something you can do alone." Those words meant more to me now than they had long before all of this started. They finally made sense.

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